


Sea Legs

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [3]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are back to normal aboard the <i>Riptide</i>, but Murray doesn't really want normal anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea Legs

After eight nights in the woods with Quinlan, and one in a hotel, Murray found it hard to sleep alone in his little cabin below decks where he'd wanted so badly to be all that time. The creaking boards and lapping waves he'd missed so much now kept him awake, and the muffled sounds from Nick and Cody's cabin left him feeling cold and empty, when he used to just be glad that he wasn't alone. But having so recently had someone to sleep beside, someone to fuck him and hold him and keep him warm, he missed it more than he could ever have imagined. Maybe it was just Quinlan getting off in a convenient hole; Murray didn't know. But that could just as easily apply to him, too, so he took no offense. He just wanted to do it again.

Lying awake on his narrow cot, he considered his options as he now saw them. Going to Quinlan was out of the question. If the lieutenant had wanted to keep seeing him, or just keep screwing him, he'd have said so at some point. He'd had plenty of opportunities. And walking out of the courthouse without even saying goodbye was a pretty strong statement, even from a man who normally spoke with silence.

Murray briefly considered asking one or both of the guys to cut him in on the action, strictly on the side, of course, but he dismissed that thought pretty quickly. He knew he was already too big a part of their lives. If they went that far, there would be no keeping him out, and they must want to keep him out or they'd have invited him in long ago. It was the only thing that made sense. So there would be no relief there.

That left him with seeking out affection from strangers, as he once had in New Orleans. Surely there were men to be had on an hourly basis if he wanted one. But it was too dangerous in King Harbor and he hated the idea of going all the way to LA alone. Especially for something like that. Most of his previous one night stands had happened at conferences and conventions, but he didn't have one of those scheduled for another three months.

Around one a.m., he started rationalizing. Quinlan was keeping it quiet. He couldn't say anything at the courthouse because there were too many people around. And maybe before, during the drive back, he'd been too emotional. Maybe he'd been afraid of breaking down in tears at the thought of them being separated. No, that was too ridiculous, even for one o'clock. Murray put it away for three, when he would be willing to clutch at flimsier straws. But that didn't mean Quinlan wouldn't be in touch. He might call at any time, or just catch Murray alone in town. Anything could happen.

Except a week went by and nothing did.

***

"What's going on with Murray?" Cody whispered, stretching out beside Nick in their bed. They had been watching their friend closely ever since he came back, trying to get a handle on what had happened to him, but Murray wasn't talking. He said he had a lot of work to catch up on and hardly ever left his cabin. When he did, it was to walk up and down the streets of King Harbor with a hopeful, far-away look in his eyes. He never wanted company on those walks, and when they followed him in secret, it never seemed as if he was going anywhere.

"I don't know, man. I thought he'd be happy to be home, you know? But all he does is mope. If I didn't know better, I'd think he missed Quinlan."

Cody laughed. "No, that can't be it. But we need to figure it out. This thing is over, almost, and he needs to move on."

"Almost?"

"Well, he's still got to testify against Blackwell when that case comes up. Maybe that's what he's upset about." Cody sounded almost excited, as if he'd found the answer and they could fix it now. "Maybe he's just nervous about being out in open before the trials are over."

"Maybe, but Blackwell's in jail. There's nothing for him to be scared of now."

"Yeah, well, he might be scared anyway. And he might not be wrong. Blackwell brought those guys to kill him; he could send other guys."

"I think if that was at all likely, the DA would still be keeping him under wraps. And he's out in the open on the streets a lot, so I don't think he's scared. No, it's something else. That son of a bitch Quinlan did something to him, said something, maybe, that he's not over yet."

"So, what, you think we ought to talk to him?" Cody asked.

"Yeah, we oughta. Hey, I'm gonna get some water. If it sounds like he's awake, I'll drop in on him."

"Good idea. But don't be too long, okay?"

"What, you wanna go again?" Nick teased.

"I want to go to sleep. You know I don't sleep well when you're not here."

"I'll do my best." Nick kissed him and slid out of bed, pulling on his jeans and t-shirt. "Don't wait up, babe."

Nick stopped in the head, then went to the galley for a glass of ice water. He moved quietly, listening to the night sounds of the boat and the harbor, and after a moment, discerned a muffled sob from the forward cabin. Shit. It was worse than he thought. He knocked on the door and let himself in after Murray told him to go away.

"Hey, Boz, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

Murray was lying on his back, staring at the overhead, stained grey by three months of solder smoke and the occasional electrical fire. He didn't have his glasses on and the smoke stains were like clouds through the mist of his tears.

"Nothing," he said, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I told you to go away."

"Yeah, and I didn't, because you're my friend." Nick sat down on the edge of the cot and gripped Murray's wrist tightly, pulling it away from his face. "Buddy, it's no secret there's something wrong here. You came home looking happy and a little anxious, and you've been sinking ever since. Now I want to know what's going on. Cody and I both do. We're worried, okay?"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Murray said, jerking his hand free and turning away. "But there's nothing you can do. Just leave me alone and I'll get over it."

"Get over what, Boz? What happened out there?"

"Nothing," he insisted, but he was crying again.

"Murray, how can we help if you won't talk to us?"

"You _can't_ help. It doesn't matter, Nick, there's nothing you can do."

"Quinlan did something to you, didn't he? Those bruises on your neck, that's not really seatbelt burn like you said. And just for the record, we never believed it was. Murray, what happened?"

The other man's only answer was to wrap his arms around his head and sob. After a moment, Nick half turned and lifted Murray's upper body against his chest, pressing the damp face to his shoulder. There was a little resistance, and then Murray sank into his embrace, pouring out his grief and pain without words.

"Buddy, you're gonna have to tell us sometime," Nick whispered. "Maybe not tonight, but soon. Okay? Whatever it is, you can't keep carrying it all alone."

"I have to," he said at last. "I don't have a choice."

"You have choices, Murray. Just tell me what he did."

"I can't. Nick, I just can't. Stop asking or go away."

Nick sighed, hating the very idea of going to sleep tonight without the answers he wanted. But there was nothing else to do. He held Murray for a long time and then went back to bed, his curiosity unsatisfied.

Murray pretended to be asleep until Nick left, then wept silently 'til dawn.

***

Cody tried the next morning. Murray was at his computer and didn't come to breakfast, so Cody knocked at the door and was welcomed in, simply because Murray had learned his lesson last night. Saying no only hurt their feelings; it didn't actually keep them out.

"What're you doing, Boz?" Cody's voice was light and friendly, the same interested tone he'd used that first day when asking about Murray's mood ring and jar of flies.

"A friend of mine asked me to proof his technical manual for programming errors. His agent wants it in a week, so I'm kind of on a deadline."

"Yeah, you lost a lot of time with the trials and all that, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes. It'll take me weeks to get caught up on everything. And that's if we don't get too many cases."

"Okay. I'll just leave you to your work then," he said, noting the way his words caused Murray's shoulders to slump with relief. "After you answer me one question."

"What's that, Cody?"

"What are those marks on your neck?"

"I told you, it's from the shoulder harness in Quinlan's car. He almost hit a deer on the way back to town."

"_He_ almost hit a deer?" Cody repeated.

"Yes. Is that everything? Because I'm really swamped here."

"Yeah, no, just one more thing. The bruises are on the wrong side, Murray. In order for a seatbelt to do that, you'd have to have been the one driving."

Murray stopped typing and looked at him for the first time, his eyes wide and trapped.

"Come on, buddy, you think Nick and me, of all people, don't know a hickey when it's staring us in the face?"

"Cody…" he whispered, and stopped because he couldn't go on.

"Murray, is that what this is? You and Quinlan are having some kind of—fling? Because if that's what you want—"

"No. No, it was just a—a temporary thing. It ended when we came back."

"Oh. Oh, _shit_!" he exclaimed. "_That's_ what's wrong, isn't it? That son of a bitch dumped you?"

"Cody, stop it," Murray hissed, shooting anxious glances at the half-open door. "It's just—he—we were—lonely. It was a weird situation, but it's over now."

"Then why are you so upset? Do you _want_ it to be over?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. But if you say anything to anyone, I—I'll move out. This is just between us, okay?"

"What, I can't even tell Nick? Murray, that's not right."

"Nick would kill him. Is that what you want?"

"I might kill him myself."

"Then I guess I'd better start packing," Murray said, making as if to rise.

"No, you stay there. I'll handle Nick, and I promise it won't go any farther than the boat. You keep our secrets, buddy. We'll keep yours."

"Thank you," he said and turned back to the computer, signaling that the conversation was over. Cody wanted to stay, wanted to try and think of something comforting to say, but as he watched, a single tear ran down Murray nose and splashed on the keyboard.

Cody went out and closed the door behind him.

"You were right," he told Nick when they were safely back in their cabin.

"Right about what?"

"He misses Quinlan."

"Be serious," Nick scoffed. "What did he _really_ say?"

"Not much. Just that those _are_ hickeys on his neck, and it was a 'weird situation'. I think Quinlan was probably fucking around with him because he was bored and Murray got attached."

"I'm gonna kill that bastard. I really am."

"No, you're not. We can't do anything, Nick. We go making a big deal, protecting Murray's honor or whatever, he's going to be humiliated. I think he is already, so we need to let it go. Just be his friends, you know, until he gets his feet under him again."

"Yeah, that's all well and good, Cody, but he can't just get away with it. If Quinlan used his authority to get what he wanted, that's a crime."

"Are you saying it was rape?"

"Think about it. He takes Murray off in the woods all alone, insists on guarding him personally, and brings him back fucked over and crying? What does that sound like to you?"

"Sounds like you have an active imagination, Nick. You really think Murray couldn't say no?"

"I'm saying maybe he did. And maybe, stuck out there, fifty miles from civilization with no phone and a cop who's twice his size, it didn't make any difference."

"No," Cody said, shaking his head. "No way, Nick. Not Quinlan. He wouldn't flat out rape somebody."

"Those marks are pretty deep, and Murray's awfully upset."

"That doesn't mean it was forced. I think it's more likely Murray went along willingly, thinking it was going to mean something. Look at how he's been acting, Nick. I don't think that's a rape victim, I think that's a guy who got dumped. You've seen how he jumps when the phone rings, and that hopeful look on his face when someone comes on board. Remember after the trial, how he was looking for Ted then?"

"And the son of a bitch was already gone. You're right, man, I just didn't want to see it. I can't believe Murray fell for that shit. I'd almost rather believe Quinlan forced him than think he'd _want_ it."

"You don't mean that. But still, poor Boz. So, what are we going to do?"

"You've had your heart broken, Cody, you know the answer to that. There's nothing we _can_ do. He'll get over it when he's over it. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna break Quinlan's nose for him the next chance I get."

"Just so long as you don't say why."

"I won't. In the meantime, I'm gonna go make some brownies and see if I can get him to come out of his room."

"Good idea. And maybe we can go fishing this weekend. If he's still got his head in the forest, he might need some help getting his sea legs back."

"Yeah, let's make sure we do that," Nick said and went forward to Murray's room. He was going to make the brownies, but he had something to do first.

Murray didn't bother to respond to his knock and Nick let himself in.

"Cody sure can keep a secret, can't he?" Murray said, not looking up.

"Not from me." Nick moved around the desk and slipped his arms around Murray's neck from behind. Murray tipped his head back against Nick's chest and sighed.

"I don't want any trouble, okay? Just forget it."

"There won't be any trouble, buddy. Just tell me one thing."

"If it's not too personal."

"It's all pretty personal, isn't it? Just tell me it was consensual, whatever it was. He—he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"You're right, that's pretty personal, Nick. And, yes, it was consensual. He offered and I accepted. I'm a big slut with no taste who got dumped the second my—my lover had access to more attractive people. Happy?"

"No, Murray, that doesn't make me happy. But I'm not blaming you. This kind of thing happens to everyone sometimes. You just gotta shake it off and move on, you know? But the next time we get into it with him, I'm gonna kick his ass twice, just for you."

"Thanks. Say, Nick, no offense—I mean, I appreciate the sympathy and everything—but I'd really just like to be alone right now."

"Sure." Nick straightened up and squeezed his shoulder gently. Murray would probably come out of hiding for lunch and warm brownies, and they could all start putting this behind them.

As it turned out, Nick was half right. Murray did come out for lunch, but the awkwardness remained and his friends were forced to admit to themselves that it would take more than sympathetic brownies to break through.

***

Murray stayed up late again, fiddling with a new program until he reached the point of diminishing returns and started doing more wrong than right. But he wouldn't be able to sleep, that was a given. With the fresh memory of the sturdy body that had so recently warmed his bed, he now found his lonely little cot repulsive. The mattress was lumpy, the sheets cold and itchy, and so long as he lay there, no one was going to hold him and caress him and make him warm.

It was after midnight when he got up from his desk and put on his sweater. Up in the salon, he paused to listen and heard only snoring from the stern cabin. He unlocked the door and let himself out, stumbling a little on the deck but managing to make it over the side without falling. Then he didn't really know where to go. He knew what he wanted, but not where to find it. Slowly, he made his way up to the street and wandered toward downtown. Maybe he would meet someone coming out of _The Lobster Pot_ or hanging around in the park. He'd heard of queers in the park at night and often wondered what they did. Maybe it was secretive enough that he wouldn't be talked about tomorrow.

The park was a better bet than the bar because too many people tended to recognize him walking down the street. He needed the darkness and dreamed of an anonymous encounter, warm body and gentle hands, a strong man to fuck him soundly while he pretended to be with someone else. He headed that way, leaving the streetlights and traffic behind. But when he got near, he saw that something was happening. The park was full of police cars and a pair of ambulances stood at the curb. Murray paused in the shadows, waiting to see what was going on. Eventually, two gurneys were wheeled to the ambulances and three men led to patrol cars in handcuffs. A lot of other people were standing around, most of them cops, and Murray recognized Quinlan, his stocky body and tan jacket standing out in the headlights' glare. Murray stood and watched him, admiring the confident way he moved, his emphatic gestures and the carrying sound of his stern voice. He remembered the feel of those hands on his body, that voice in his ear, and shivered. He'd come here to find someone to fuck and found the person he most wanted, but it didn't matter. Not at a crowded crime scene. But still he stood and watched.

It was nearly an hour before the group of cops broke up, leaving four trees cordoned off with yellow tape and nothing on the ground to see. Murray had waited all that time, watching Quinlan work his scene and getting a vague idea of what had happened. But as everyone prepared to leave, Quinlan came his way and he realized he was standing near the lieutenant's car. It crossed his mind to disappear, knowing he could slip behind a tree and go unnoticed, but he didn't. He stayed right where he had been the whole time, and was surprised when Quinlan walked right up to him. He grabbed Murray's wrist without a word and dragged him over to the car, opened the door and shoved him inside.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Quinlan asked, sliding behind the wheel.

"I was just out for a walk and I saw the commotion. What happened?"

"Just out for a walk, huh? Put on your seatbelt. You mean you weren't coming here? You weren't looking to cruise the park? Maybe pick somebody up?"

"What do you care what I do?"

"You wanna know what happened? I'll tell you. A couple of queers were making out in the bushes and three guys attacked them with bats. One of them's gonna die for sure and the other one—his head's smashed. Even if he lives, he ain't ever gonna be right. That what you want, Bozinsky? You want to die gettin' a blowjob from a stranger?"

"Big talk, considering you're a queer yourself."

"I ain't cruising public parks, smart-ass." He flipped off the dash light and put the car in gear.

"I wasn't either. I told you, I was going for a walk. I haven't been able to sleep much lately."

"Yeah, I seen you out prowling the street at night. I was half expecting to find you in there when we got the call."

"Really? You know me well enough to judge where I go for sex?"

"I ain't judging nothing. You want me to take you home?"

"No. I don't want to wake the guys. Just drop me somewhere downtown."

"Why, you wanna try your luck in an alley?"

"_What do you care_?" he asked, exasperated beyond endurance. "Jeez, Ted, you fuck me a couple times and never speak to me again, and now you think you have some right to—to—what—be protective? You don't give a shit about me and we both know it, so what's with the big show?"

"Calm down, Bozinsky. This ain't high school and I didn't stand you up for the prom."

"Oh, get bent. And let me out of the car. I don't need this."

"Get over it, Bozinsky. What did you want me to do, huh? Take you to the malt shop? Buy you a circle pin?"

"Did I say get bent? I meant go to hell," he sighed, turning toward the window.

"I kept you alive, kid. And whatever else happened, I never heard you saying no."

"That's right, you didn't. And I'd have said yes a lot more often if you hadn't just—disappeared. You were done with me, weren't you? You just used me because I was convenient and then threw me away."

"Come on, like you were in love?"

"You don't know and you don't care. Just let me out so you can go back to ignoring me, okay?"

"I ain't gonna do that. You've still got to testify against Blackwell next week, and the mood you're in now, you'll probably get yourself killed just to spite me."

"So what are you going to do? Drive me around until dawn?" He didn't recognize the street they were on and wondered if they were just getting lost now.

"I'm taking you home."

"I don't want to go home."

"Not your home. Think I trust you not to wander off again?"

"Does it matter that I'm starting to hate you a little?"

If Murray had been looking, he'd have seen Quinlan flinch. But he wasn't looking, and when Quinlan spoke, his voice was steady and mildly jeering.

"You mean you didn't before?"

"No. In fact, ten days ago, I kind of liked you. Stupid me, huh?"

"And they say you're a genius." He turned into the driveway in front of a neat single story house and turned off the engine. It wasn't the kind of place Murray would have expected him to live, had he ever thought about it. Simple but pretty curtains over the windows, well groomed shrubs along the front walk, all illuminated by a lamp within and a bright porch light without. Murray got out of the car and followed him inside.

"This is nice," he said, taking in the tidy living room. The style of the house was early sixties, but the carpet and drapes were newer, recently updated but classic, not the current weird fashion. "I guess you _are_ gay."

"My sister redecorated when she was here last year. As for gay, aren't you?"

Murray shrugged. "I guess so. I don't know. I don't say no to many people, regardless of gender. I—I like almost everyone."

"Figures."

"You can't complain, Ted." He took off his sweater and hung it up by the door.

"I ain't complaining. You want a drink or something?"

"Just water, please."

Quinlan got him a glass from the kitchen and Murray drank it slowly, pondering his situation. When Quinlan suggested they go to bed, he shrugged and went along. After all, he'd gone out looking to get laid, and this was the man he'd had in mind. As he'd expected, Quinlan didn't talk much, but he was gentle and lover-like, taking his time and finding all kinds of ways to make Murray feel good. He still wasn't willing to be vulnerable himself; he kept Murray pinned down most of the time, kissing and stroking his slender body, sucking him to orgasm and then turning him over with many a sweet caress. Murray was still shuddering with reaction, shivering as the sweat chilled on his skin, and Quinlan's sturdy weight on his back warmed him. This time the penetration was devoid of pain, and when he began to get hard again, he guided Quinlan's hand to his cock and thrust eagerly, sure he wouldn't come again but enjoying the attempt.

This part, too, went slowly, and he recognized that Ted was drawing it out on purpose, teasing them both. Murray rocked and moaned beneath him, reveling in Quinlan's sharp sounds of pleasure and nearly coming when Ted's free hand twined with his and held on. The sex always seemed loving but distant somehow, yet the handholding made Murray wonder if it was an act. He turned his head and received a kiss that seemed to confirm that idea, and then Quinlan was coming, groaning his name. Murray closed his eyes and went with him, bucking against the mattress, driving him deep as they pulsed and sobbed together.

For a moment after, both were still, catching their breath. Just as Murray was becoming aware of his position, Quinlan withdrew and rolled out of bed. He left the room without a word and Murray sighed as he reached for the tissues. But he had no room to complain. He'd gone out looking for sex and he'd gotten it. Good sex, from the man he'd wanted and hadn't expected to find. That had to be enough.

"Going to send me home now?" he asked when Quinlan returned.

"Thought you didn't want to go home," he said with a strange half-smile as he climbed back into bed.

"But you're done with me for now, right?"

"Get over yourself, Bozinsky. Go to sleep."

Murray was confused, as he always was when dealing with this man, but the bed was comfortable and his orgasms had left him feeling drained and sleepy. He turned over and closed his eyes, smiling faintly when Ted moved closer, pressing against his back. Suddenly he never wanted to leave.

***

Quinlan drove him home early in the morning, and once again, they didn't talk. Murray boarded the Riptide in the still of pre-dawn and went straight to the shower, trying hard to hold onto his feelings of peace. There were times last night when he'd been sure Quinlan liked him well enough, when he thought it might be okay to bring up the possibility of a continuing relationship, but he never quite had the courage and the moment always passed. All he had now to prove it had happened were some fresh bruises on his neck and shoulders, which would earn him no points with the guys. But, oh, they felt good. He hoped he could have more and have them soon. If it were up to him, he'd go back to that neat little house tonight. But it wasn't up to him. None of it was.

Murray turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel. By the time he'd dressed and started breakfast, Nick and Cody were up. They didn't ask where he'd been last night. They had never noticed he was gone.


End file.
